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LGBT's next Colorado battles: health care, youth

Cassian Howell, 19, fills a bowl with water to heat up oatmeal for lunch at The Spot, inside of Urban Peak in Denver, on June 20. Howell says gay marriage, insurance and a job are all just words, trumped by the routine search for food and shelter. (Photos by Andy Cross, The Denver Post)

Colorado's gay advocates, battle-hardened and motivated by recent historic victories, are already leveraging their political clout to take on the next battlegrounds: health care and the workplace.

They have the statistics to show they are at disadvantages when it comes to the doctor's office and the workplace.

They want more power for young members of the LGBT family.

And they will be facing a fight.

"While marriage provides a bedrock protection for our families, we cannot stop until every gay and transgender person no longer faces bullying in our schools, barriers in our health care systems and harassment in our workplaces," said Brad Clark, executive director of One Colorado.

Brad Clark, executive director of One Colorado, says the fight for LGBT rights is not done. "We cannot stop until every gay and transgender person no longer faces bullying in our schools, barriers in our health care systems and harassment in our workplaces."

Traditional opponents, however, said they are wary of the agenda, and they will be prepared to fight what they see as an overreach into moral and fiscal issues.

"Health care and kids sound great, but not if it's just a Trojan horse for all kinds of other things that put their lifestyle over God's will and society's values," said Dan Hancock of Colorado Springs, who campaigned in 2006 for the passage of Amendment 43, which blocks gay marriage in Colorado.

Jenny Kraska, executive director of the Colorado Catholic Conference, which opposed gay marriage, said she would have to wait and see what LGBT advocates ask for before she would pass judgment and comment.

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"We have a very deep concern for all people. We're all created in God's image," she said. "And we have outreach programs for gay and lesbian people."

LGBT shelter case manager Rachel Pater, left, talks with Cassian Howell at Urban Peak. Pater said LGBT teens often are an invisible population to those who could and should help. (Andy Cross, The Denver Post)

The report stated that LGBT people in Colorado are almost twice as likely as heterosexuals to earn less than $35,000 a year and more than twice as likely to be unemployed.

Such disparities in needs and care will have to compete with the realities of implementing the Affordable Care Act next year.

"We believe health care is part of equality," said Ashley Wheeland, the health policy director for One Colorado.

She said getting people in a system of care, rather than having to wait to get help or show up in an emergency room, benefits society and is less expensive overall.

But for LGBT, the medical system often seems a place to be judged.

"They treated me like I didn't know how to care for myself as a woman because I'm a lesbian," said Nita Henry, 50, of Denver, who waged a successful battle with breast cancer three years ago. "The last thing you want to hear when you have cancer is that you're complicit in it. You know what? My diagnosis would have been the same if I was a straight woman."

Narcissa Walker, a 38-year-old transgender woman in Denver, struggles with a list of health issues, including post-traumatic stress after she was sexually assaulted, and asthma, she said.

"It's an access issue. You have this whole layer of legal red tape you have to go through to begin with," she said. "And any kind of gender mismatch sends the bureaucrats screaming."

Often, silence is the enemy.

Doctors often don't ask patients enough questions, including whether they're LGBT, for fear of offending them or winding up in legal trouble, said Dr. Mark Thrun, director of HIV prevention and STD control for Denver Public Health.

Patients don't give doctors potentially important information about their sexual orientation for fear of being judged by a stranger, he said.

"It's sort of a 'don't ask, don't tell' with a medical spin to it," Thrun said.

Rita Lee, a University of Colorado Hospital physician, said doctors need more training. When she was in medical school, she got about five hours of instruction in issues affecting LGBT patients in four years of classes.

The medical profession is poised for an evolution in how it treats LGBT patients, she said.

One Colorado is working with the Colorado Medical Society and the Denver Medical Society to survey doctors on their attitudes toward treating LGBT patients. Later this year, the three groups will develop better training for medical professional, which they hope will be duplicated nationwide. The national Gay and Lesbian Medical Association will hear about the plan during its annual conference in Denver in September.

In March, the Colorado Division of Insurance issued a directive reminding insurers it is against Colorado law to discriminate based on sexual orientation, including those who are transgender.

Kaiser Permanente said earlier this month it would work with the Colorado Civil Rights Commission to eliminate health care barriers for transgender people and develop "culturally competent" care.

Vulnerable youth

For 19-year-old Cassian Howell, marriage, insurance and a job are all just vague words, trumped by the routine search for food and shelter.

According to the National Youth Association, nine out of 10 LGBT students have experienced bullying and slurs at school, nearly three times the rate of straight teens. These teens are four times more likely than heterosexual teens to attempt suicide.

The National Coalition for the Homeless and the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force stated in 2006 report that while LGBT people account for about 3 percent of the population, the demographic accounts for up to 40 percent of the homeless teens.

The study indicated that LGBT teens are almost eight times as likely to trade sex for money, drugs, food or shelter.

Urban Peak, where Howell often stays, was part of the eight-city public health survey.

"I don't think it'll get better," he said. "This world is never going to get better until people just open their eyes and realize we're all just people, and we're all in the same place for different reasons."

Gabe McIntyre, a transgender 18-year-old boy, has been in and out of the Urban Peak shelter four times since early May, trying to stay away from meth and trying to find acceptance — a word painted above the entrance door.

"I was forced to go to church when I was in a foster family, and wear a dress. It was ridiculous," he said, recalling an experience that happened last year. "They asked a question in Sunday school one day: 'Who supports gay marriage?' I was the only one who raised my hand, and I looked — everyone was staring at me.

"After church, the teacher said she was going to pray for me, and I was like, 'Really?' It made me feel like crap."

Rachel Pater, his case worker, said though every town in America has LGBT teens, they remain an invisible population to leaders, social services and even many charities that could and should reach out.

More shelters like Urban Peak and better funding for programs that address the disproportional number of LGBT youth on the streets would be a big step, advocates said.

"You don't have to be in the next Pride parade," Pater said. "But if you can hold your tongue and be a parent, you can find them a mentor; there are gradations of acceptance. It doesn't have to be rejection or acceptance.